Written by Anonymous.

Me again but with good cause. I admit that I have not lived in Sutton since I was 6 (there is a God!) but I have family living in the surrounding area and I’ve always enjoyed my nights out there. None more so than a few weeks ago on a Friday when a group of us decided to venture out for a good old knees up and a jolly good laugh at the dregs of society.
I will take you through my pub tour and hope this may interest you enough to sample it for yourself!

We started at 8pm at The Woolpack. Perhaps this should be re-named the Licensed Youth Club. The place was lined wall to wall with Chavs aged 17 and below. The obligatory tracksuit was the dominant range of clothing although one or two had made the effort and wore jeans but all those in denim had on a baseball cap. Not one lad (other than those in my group) had bothered to make an effort unlike the girls who had clearly gone mad in an orgy of pink Playboy gear, knee high boots and market skirts.
Sutton is one of the only places I know where the clientele look more scary than the bouncers. And the only thing to out number sovereign rings was he number of missing teeth!
The bar staff served everyone at the bar before me as the young chavs barged into me balling “Fuckin ‘ell Sandra y’all-rate? Gerrus a JD & Coke duck.”
A load of the Burberry clad scummers descended on the pool table – not to play, just to sit and ooze their cool prowess over the rest of the fleapit pub. There were about 15 of them but I only spotted 4 of them with a pint. With this ratio of drinkers to non-drinkers considered, how has this pub not gone bankrupt?
On the way out we had to squeeze our way past the 20 stone forty year olds wearing mini skirts, knee high boots and some kind of black knitted creation for a top, who were strutting their stuff for all they were worth on the dance floor!

Next we went to the Denmans. Quite possibly my favourite pub of all time. My Grandad used to bring me here when I was a kid to the jumble sale upstairs, that was almost 20 years ago and the decor hasn’t changed. In fact after speaking to my dad who is 55 this pubs decor hasn’t changed since he was a kid!
The floor is tiled in red and grey and behind the bar are those small mirrored tiles – always a sign of class in any drinking establishment. All the paintwork is dark green and the windows haven’t been cleaned for years.
Denmans is a pub for the older generation. The blokes fall into two categories. The first lot have been to the gym, the tattoo parlour, Warren James, the leather stall on the market and got the missus to razor their head and are looking super fly and ready to pull the first single mum that wanders within 5 ft of his knocked off Joop aftershave.
The second guy is as old as the fixtures and fittings but not as pretty!
The DJ here was fantastic. He looked about 16 and as far as I could tell his only understanding of a mix is the type his mate buys for skinning up! Maybe someone should tell him that Anastasia and The Vengaboys will never mix.

We moved onto the market Hotel. I don’t find this pub too depressing on the whole it’s a fairly Chav free zone, they even have live bands on – bit of something for the real music fans!
The decor is reasonable but a trip to the toilet had my stomach churning. My sister and another member of the party had come out looking positively green, they were talking to another woman who said she had complained to the bar staff with regards to the stench of vomit, the bar maid said it was from the night before! Have the cleaners not heard of bleach? Do they even have cleaners? It’s a mystery and we ended up daring each other to go in and see how long we could take it!

After this we decided to give or lungs a break and we took a walk round to Bar Zizz the only pub that can realistically be called a bar. The last time I went in it was very modern and clean looking and I hoped it would do well.
It was shut.

Feeling slightly disappointed we trudged down to Charlie’s Bar (or First Base). Everyone who had been in the Woolpack had descended upon this den of depravity. There are a couple of chairs and tables next to the pool table. The table and chairs are all attached to a metal frame – the kind you find in a dodgy late night kebab shop!
The music is all Hardcore, House, Techno and Rave – all the girls love “My neck, my back, lick my . . ” and “Face down ass up that’s the way we like. . .” I can’t even bring myself to write the full lyrics without wanting to vomit at the sheer coarseness of these songs. Is it any wonder teenage pregnancy is at an all time high with lines such as these positively promoting promiscuity?!
We stayed here for 2 drinks – I got a free green diamante bracelet with both.
Some chav girl was kicking off with a lad on the dance floor over God only knows what – I think he’d cheated on her mate with some bodies sister. She looked about 15 and clearly had no mirrors in the house but had had plenty of alcohol to make up for it.

After what felt like hours we left for our final watering hole and it is a hole, THE NAGS HEAD! Every pub called this is the same, a complete and utter dump – mainly on a par with public toilets built pre-World War 2. It’s become a late bar so every chav and his dog/missus finishes up in here. They swarm to the dance floor to jump about to “Children of the Night”, whilst necking as many snakebite and blacks as is humanly possible before time is called.
My friend got ID’d in here, at 21 I’m wondering if she was too old. I didn’t like to ask as the bar maid looked like she cut sheet metal with her teeth as her main job.
It is in this establishment that I first saw the young girl who was 8 months pregnant smoking, drinking and dancing like an idiot who provided me with the inspiration for Dana in my previous article.
In the toilets I heard various conversations:
“You know I’m not one for fighting but if I hear she’s f**ked my man again I’m gonna smash an ashtray into her face!”
“Ooh I just love the taste of sp*nk. I could drink it all day!”
“I need to get laid. I don’t care who does it. I might just grab the first guy who looks my way!”
I hope these girls got what they wanted, after all their needs and wants are simple.

We stayed here until the end – we had no choice there was a gang fight going off outside. So we had another beer and waited for the police to move them on to KFC/McDonalds/Chick King.

I only spent £15 and was one of the top 5 looking girls out. Top Banana!



Top 10 worst places to live in England 2018

  Written by Anonymous.

Me again but with good cause. I admit that I have not lived in Sutton since I was 6 (there is a God!) but I have family living in the surrounding area and I’ve always enjoyed my nights out there. None more so than last Friday when a group of us decided to venture out for a good old knees up and a jolly good laugh at the dregs of society.
I will take you through my pub tour and hope this may interest you enough to sample it for yourself!

We started at 8pm at The Woolpack. Perhaps this should be re-named the Licensed Youth Club. The place was lined wall to wall with Chavs aged 17 and below. The obligatory tracksuit was the dominant range of clothing although one or two had made the effort and wore jeans but all those in denim had on a baseball cap. Not one lad (other than those in my group) had bothered to make an effort unlike the girls who had clearly gone mad in an orgy of pink Playboy gear, knee high boots and market skirts.
Sutton is one of the only places I know where the clientele look more scary than the bouncers. And the only thing to out number sovereign rings was he number of missing teeth!
The bar staff served everyone at the bar before me as the young chavs barged into me balling “Fuckin ‘ell Sandra y’all-rate? Gerrus a JD & Coke duck.”
A load of the Burberry clad scummers descended on the pool table – not to play, just to sit and ooze their cool prowess over the rest of the fleapit pub. There were about 15 of them but I only spotted 4 of them with a pint. With this ratio of drinkers to non-drinkers considered, how has this pub not gone bankrupt?
On the way out we had to squeeze our way past the 20 stone forty year olds wearing mini skirts, knee high boots and some kind of black knitted creation for a top, who were strutting their stuff for all they were worth on the dance floor!

Next we went to the Denmans. Quite possibly my favourite pub of all time. My Grandad used to bring me here when I was a kid to the jumble sale upstairs, that was almost 20 years ago and the decor hasn’t changed. In fact after speaking to my dad who is 55 this pubs decor hasn’t changed since he was a kid!
The floor is tiled in red and grey and behind the bar are those small mirrored tiles – always a sign of class in any drinking establishment. All the paintwork is dark green and the windows haven’t been cleaned for years.
Denmans is a pub for the older generation. The blokes fall into two categories. The first lot have been to the gym, the tattoo parlour, Warren James, the leather stall on the market and got the missus to razor their head and are looking super fly and ready to pull the first single mum that wanders within 5 ft of his knocked off Joop aftershave.
The second guy is as old as the fixtures and fittings but not as pretty!
The DJ here was fantastic. He looked about 16 and as far as I could tell his only understanding of a mix is the type his mate buys for skinning up! Maybe someone should tell him that Anastasia and The Vengaboys will never mix.

We moved onto the market Hotel. I don’t find this pub too depressing on the whole it’s a fairly Chav free zone, they even have live bands on – bit of something for the Goths!
The decor is reasonable but a trip to the toilet had my stomach churning. My sister and another member of the party had come out looking positively green, they were talking to another woman who said she had complained to the bar staff with regards to the stench of vomit, the bar maid said it was from the night before! Have the cleaners not heard of bleach? Do they even have cleaners? it’s a mystery and we ended up daring each other to go in and see how long we could take it!

After this we decided to give or lungs a break and we took a walk round to Bar Zizz that only pub that can realistically be called a bar. The last time I went in it was very modern and clean looking and I hoped it would do well.
It was shut.

Feeling slightly disappointed we trudged down to Charlie’s Bar (or First Base). Everyone who had been in the Woolpack had descended upon this den of depravity. There are a couple of chairs and tables next to the pool table. The table and chairs are all attached to a metal frame – the kind you find in a dodgy late night kebab shop!
The music is all Hardcore, House, Techno and Rave – all the girls love “My neck, my back, lick my . . ” and “Face down ass up that’s the way we like. . .” I can’t even bring myself to write the full lyrics without wanting to vomit at the sheer coarseness of these songs. Is it any wonder teenage pregnancy is at an all time high with lines such as these positively promoting promiscuity?!
We stayed here for 2 drinks – I got a free green diamante bracelet with both.
Some chav girl was kicking off with a lad on the dance floor over God only knows what – I think he’d cheated on her mate with some bodies sister. She looked about 15 and clearly had no mirrors in the house but had had plenty of alcohol to make up for it.

After what felt like hours we left for our final watering hole and it is a hole, THE NAGS HEAD! Every pub called this is the same, a complete and utter dump – mainly on a par with public toilets built pre-World War 2. It’s become a late bar so every chav and his dog/missus finishes up in here. They swarm to the dance floor to jump about to “Children of the Night”, whilst necking as many snakebite and blacks as is humanly possible before time is called.
My friend got ID’d in here., I’m wondering if she was too old. I didn’t like to ask as the bar maid looked like she cut sheet metal with her teeth for her main job.
It is in this establishment that I first saw the young girl who was 8 months pregnant smoking, drinking and dancing like an idiot who provided me with the inspiration for Dana in my previous article.
In the toilets I heard various conversations:
“You know I’m not one for fighting but if I hear she’s f**ked my man again I’m gonna smash an ashtray into her face!”
“Ooh I just love the taste of sp*nk. I could drink it all day!”
“I need to get laid. I don’t care who does it. I might just grab the first guy who looks my way!”

I hope these girls got what they wanted, after all their needs and wants are simple.

We stayed here until the end – we had no choice there was a gang fight going off outside. So we had another beer and waited for the police to move them on to KFC/McDonalds/Chick King.

I only spent £15 and was in the top 5 best looking girls out. Top Banana!
Continue reading “Sutton in Ashfield (a night on the tiles)” »


Top 10 worst places to live in England 2018